A Heart-to-Heart on the Factory Floor

Gather around, everyone. Today’s going to go a little differently than usual. I promise it won’t take long – I know it was asking a lot to have you all come in on a Sunday, what with the fourth coming up this weekend and all… it’s a busy time of the year, particularly for all of us.

But this is important… and I figured it’d be best to talk to all of you at the same time.

Most of you have probably heard me tell about how my great grandfather, Stubby Jenkinson, started this company back in 1904. It’s hard to believe how far we’ve come, really. I used to think this would all make great grampa Stubby proud… but I’m glad he wasn’t around to see what happened last Thursday.

As I’m sure you’ve all figured out, things are different here now. Everything’s just a little more… serious… than it used to be. There’s no getting around that. But, darn it! Some things just aren’t going to change, namely this: I’m your boss… you work for me. But more importantly, you matter to me.

I care whether or not you go home at the end of the day with all of your fingers and toes. I care about making sure you go home to your families with all your facial features, appendages, and motor skills intact.

Kurt – who drove you to the hospital when Willie ran you over with the forklift last year? And Sandra – who gave you a week off when you got your hand caught in the packing machine? ME! I did. And you know why? Because – each and every one of you is a priceless asset to this manufacturing company – you’re all completely irreplaceable… unless you’re not doing your job, but you know what I meant.

So, please, please, please… hear me today when I tell you that your safety matters to me as if you were my very own children.

Goodness… It’s hard to know what to say about it, really. What happened last week was both unfortunate and unforeseen – that goes without saying. Had we been able to prepare for such a bizarre happening, I’m sure I wouldn’t be here talking to you right now. But there are just some things that we can’t safeguard you from by ourselves, and that is why we want you to take the initiative to make this factory just a little bit safer for everyone who works here.

Over the weekend, we called a special meeting in the office. We decided to add three new positions to the Jenkinson team. We went ahead and hired three, what we call, E.I.A.’s – one for each shift. Now, I can see all of you out there mumbling and staring at me with rather confused faces, so I’ll go ahead and tell you what it stands for: Emergency Interception Agent.

Basically, in a nutshell, they walk around and make sure nobody does anything stupid… I mean… potentially dangerous. These staff members will be pretty noticeable on the floor – they’ll be wearing reflective vests and red hardhats. And, let’s be honest… if you can’t spot someone in that kind of a getup, you probably need to consider another line of work.

With that being said, I think now would be an appropriate time to share a moment of silence in memory of our fallen colleague, Randall B. Talbot. So, if you would, remove your hats and take a moment to reflect… or ponder… or meditate, whichever you prefer.

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All right.

Thanks for your time and your attention, I really appreciate it. And again, I can’t stress enough how important safety is to what we do here every day. So, if everybody does his and her part to keep everything running smoothly and safely, we’ll all be one big happy bunch, okay?

Well… to sum everything up, we’ll all miss Randall. There’s no denying that he made everyone’s day just a little brighter, but take Randall’s mishap as a strong and constant reminder of why it’s so important that you wait to start your smoke break until you’re outside the building. Okay?

As a part of the Jenkinson Fireworks family, I want you to know that your and loss is our loss. Therefore, until we can find all of Randall, the factory will temporarily shut down for the next five days. Thank you, and God bless.